Silencing the Music of the Ainur
by Elvensong
Summary: If you ask it of me I will give you the one ring. Galadriel fails the test and accepts so a Queen terrible as the dawn sends the world into a new dark path. Can all unite to stop her?
1. Prologue

A/N: I have been blessed with having many plots come to me recently, and a great desire to write them all. Hopefully, the increased number will not diminish the quality of the stories. Please send suggestions, for this is my introduction to a very complex and difficult plot with more twists than I can fathom. 

I must bow to my friend, Wen. Without her help, this story would not have come into existence and throughout it I will be looking to her for her wise and talented guidance. 

Silencing the Music of the Ainur

Prologue

"If you ask it of me, I will give you the one ring." Extended out was all the power she could ever dream of wielding, in the palm of this humble creature. 

            "You offer it to me freely." Soft steps heralded her approach toward a power greater than even she, with all her long life, could imagine. The air itself seemed to spark with the appearance of the One. 

            Nenya, her powerful ring, the Ring of Adamant, sent shivers through her hand as she extended her other hand towards the plain gold object of her passion.

            "I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this." Her heart and all of her soul. Closing the gap, it happened. A power overcame her and she saw all the possibilities laid out before her.

            "In place of a Dark Lord you will have a Queen! Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn, treacherous as the sea, stronger than the foundations of the Earth!" 

            Fear played on Frodo's face as he saw the beautiful Lady of the Galadrim turn into a being of terrifying, all-consuming power, yet still contained within was her spell-binding beauty.  

Closer, that which would give her ultimate power was coming closer. The world in its entire was within her grasp. The hesitation and fear on the young one's face only adding to her sense of dominance.   
  


"All shall love me and despair!"

            She made contact with the One Ring and immediately fell into its power. A dark power, blacker than the night itself consumed her. In was in that one moment that hope faded from the lands.

Galadriel, Lady of Light, fell into shadow on that day, a day that would change the fate of Middle Earth forever.

That is the day that darkness crept into treasured places and where we begin our tale. 


	2. The Sundering of the Fellowship

A/N: As of now, Princess of sMirkwood ;-), will be collaborating with Elvensong on this story. Hope you, the reader, will still enjoy this story as much. 

Disclaimer: Borrowing the characters belonging to Mr. JRR Tolkien for a while...

Chapter 1: The Sundering of the Fellowship

The halfling stared at Galadriel, his eyes very wide and round, but he did not let go of the ring. Unconsciously his palm closed more tightly around the shiny object, with his other fist clenched.

"You offered it freely to me, young one," said the Lady of Lothlorien, her fair features slowly assuming its usual beautiful, serene _expression once again. "I will take it and hide it."

"But...but," stammered the young hobbit," it was placed under my charge, and it is not for me to...pass it to any other, save in emergency."

"The Council will understand, Frodo, if you left the One in my keeping. Your mission clings on the edge of an abyss. Think you that you will be able to enter Mordor, and cast the Ring into Oroduin? You will succumb to it. It has begun. I sense it. You will not be able to bear parting with the Ring. I have seen it, in my Mirror."

Doubt clouded the small being's features.

"Come." Galadriel's long, slender fingers closed upon the ring. They were trembling with suppressed excitement, and it pried the Ring from the halfling's fingers.

Frodo felt a deep sense of foreboding, but it was too late.

The Ring fell from Frodo's grasp, onto the grass, and before he could even protest, it was in Galadriel's grasp.

"Rest, you are weary. There is naught to fear." The elven lady turned and left, and it seemed to Frodo as though the soft glow that she usually emanated flashed brilliantly; her grace made it seem as though she was drifting out of the garden.

Frodo walked slowly, deep in his thoughts. He felt empty, as though part of him had been taken away. In fact, he was feeling downright ill. He had failed. Failed his mission, and the promise to destroy the Ring.

Had he done the right thing? Would the Council ever forgive him?

He was so engrossed in self-reflection that he had returned to the Company without realizing it.

"Mr. Frodo? There you are," Sam's voice made him jump," I was wondering where you had gone."

"Nowhere much, Sam." Frodo said tiredly," Nowhere at all."

Their kin, and Boromir and Gimli, lay deep in slumber already, but Aragorn was still awake, leaning at ease against a tree and smoking his long pipe. He looked up as the hobbits drew near.

"This may be Lorien, Frodo, and the power of the Lady protects it, but you should not wander unnecessarily, especially at night," Aragorn advised. His keen eyes narrowed as he looked more closely at Frodo. "What is it? You look troubled."

"May I?" Frodo looked at Aragorn imploringly. He had to tell somebody, to clear his doubts, and Aragorn was as good a choice as any. The man seemed to be able to read minds. Frodo took a deep breath. "I gave the Ring to the Lady." The words came out in a rush.

"What?" Aragorn's eyes burnt into Frodo's. "You did not---"

"I did."

"By the Valar---" Aragorn muttered something intelligible. He felt an ill wind come over him at this news.

"I'm sorry!" Frodo blurted out, hanging his head in shame. "You don't think..."

"Yes I do," Aragorn got up abruptly. "We must have a discussion, immediately. Wake Merry and Pippin." He rapidly set about rousing Boromir and Gimli, and soon a sleepy man, a grumpy dwarf and two hobbits were gathered.

"What in the name of Aule is this?" Gimli complained. Frodo, hesitantly, spoke up and related all that had happened with the Lady. Gimli's eyes grew wider as he listened.

"What should we do then?" the dwarf asked the question that was on everyone's minds. "Need we do anything?"

"We should leave as soon as possible, I deem," Aragorn said. "Our departure must be in stealth."

"You believe that she will use the Ring." Boromir was making a statement rather than asking a question.

"The Lady would never do that," Gimli defended the elvish lady that he now revered.

"Master Dwarf, the Lady is high and noble, but nonetheless still susceptible to...temptations. She has great power within her. The Ring will...it will be folly in the hands of one who has enough power to wield it!" Aragorn seemed full of conviction.

"Why do not we go to her and ask for the return of the Ring?" Boromir asked. "You speak as if we must fly from danger."

"I do not think she will willingly return the Ring, if it is as Frodo described. This is what we must do," Aragorn said in a low voice. "Boromir and I will go to Minas Tirith to warn his people. You hobbits will make your way back to the Shire to warn your own people, in your own fashion, and Gimli, find Legolas. The two of you will return home to warn your folk. There is no other choice," he stopped Pippin who was about to protest. "The mission has been abandoned," he shot a significant look at Frodo," and there is no need ---and indeed unsafe---for the Fellowship to remain in Lorien."

There was a frenzy as everyone set about packing their belongings, and then they parted with hurried well-wishes. Boromir and Aragorn headed south, the hobbits and Gimli north. The stars, and the crescent moon, had retreated behind thick clouds.

The Fellowship was sundered. It had failed.

Galadriel almost ran as she returned to her chamber. She had been trying to discern the mode of action of the Ring, but had not yet been able to. The cogs in her mind were already spinning rapidly in planning her next move.

Celeborn lay already on the bed, appearing to be asleep, but he sat up when Galadriel entered.

"What is it, beloved? You look---strange."

"I am merely tired." She lay down and turned her back on her husband. Staring at his wife's back, Celeborn shook his head and lay down. He was used to her strange moods.

What he did not see, however, was Galadriel's hand as it held the Ring on her palm, and her roaming fingers as they caressed the smooth surface of the shiny ring.

He did not see the eager, cold, terrifying light of her ice-blue eyes as they beheld the One Ring.


	3. Siren Song

A/N: The baton is mine once more and here is my offering. The both of us thank the reviewers and hope to see more feedback since this is an extremely challenging plot.

Peace.

Chapter 2: The Siren Song__

'Our time here is ending. What more can we do in Middle-Earth?' Elrond's thoughts of the fate of his people were constantly repeating themselves in his mind of late.  Words speaking of fate and the end of the long ages of his people and the rising of the race of man who, in Elrond's view, were not worthy of such a inheritance.  The will of the Valar could not be contested and if they were seen as the next in line for all the wealth of the land, then so be it. He would say nothing, but continue along his path into the west. 

            The paths are gardens of Rivendell were beautiful and eternal. The leaves of the trees never completely fall here and some of the sun's warmth always lingers in this fair home. 

            It was as the Elf Lord was walking through these trails that a sudden wave of power swept through him. Peering down to his hand, the ring he wore there gave off an eerie and chilling glow that radiated out.  He knew, without even speaking a word or taking a step he knew.  The ring was in the hands of someone who sought to use it for ill. The one ring was together with another of the elven rings of power. 

            Fear suddenly gripped his heart, for only one person could have such a power as to awaken the forces in the ring he wore, the Lady of Light herself. Galadriel obtained the ring of power.

            Running back towards the last homely house, Elrond summoned his counsel including his twin sons, Elrohir and Elladan. 

            "Father, are you sure? Perhaps it was merely the presence of the ring in Lothlorien that gave off this feel." Elladan looked to his twin for some sort of confirmation, but was only given a look of apprehension. 

            "I am sure, my son. I have never felt anything like this and the one ring being so near me did nothing to the power surrounding myself. Galadriel is very powerful, but she can be tempted like anyone else. She was born in the Age of the Trees and was given her ring by Sauron himself. She knows the power of what the hobbits has carried and seeing that ring again would remind her of all that can be accomplished by it."

            "What would you have us do?"

            "I do not know, Elladan." Glancing up, he had to look a moment to make sure he had just called his son by the right name. Even after an age, they could still fool even their father. The silenced that followed suggested he guess was correct. 

            Looking out over his people, Elrond saw some women tending to the hanging flower baskets, a man was carving a musical instrument from a block of wood and some others were talking quietly by the northern walkways.

            His thoughts once again spoke loudly in his mind.

            'Look at your people. They are living quiet lives and have for ages. Do you really think that they could be called upon to counter the forces, which happen to be their kin? Many have strong connection to that fair wood. Do not forget, this is your beautiful wife's mother and grandmother to your children that your speak of.' The pain of these words broke onto Elrond's face and his son, Elrohir, spoke.

            "What is your decision, father?" The cry of a gull broke the silence.

            Gimli searched high and low, "Go find the Elf, why am I given this task? That Ranger could find the Elf in no time." The coming and going to blonde heads did nothing to help the dwarf's dilemma. 

            Just when he was about to relent and return elf-less to the others, the familiar clothes of Mirkwood could be seen sitting on a green hilltop. 

            "Legolas! Finally, Aragorn bids you to return." Climbing up to reach his comrade was not a easy task for Gimli, but he was eventually sitting next to the elf, who he called a friend in the comforting safety of his own mind. 

            "Why are you so far out? I've been looking for you all afternoon." The Elf in question finally turned to lock eyes with Gimli and even the Dwarf could see those eyes were troubled. "You know about the ring's possession by the Lady?"

            "Yes. I have felt it, but I don't know why."

            "What do you mean?"

            "I am not a Lord of the Elves, I have no connection to this power. I was not even yet alive when the ring was used by Sauron in the Last Alliance. Yet, I feel a darkness growing in my mind and in my heart. Yet, I can not figure out why."

            Sighing, Gimli could find no answer or comforting words in this matter. All this was beyond him and he only wish to complete his task. "Come, we need you to come with me. We shall begin our treks together. You need to tell your people of this new possible threat."

            "Not possible, Gimli, but definite and existing."

            Together, they left the camp that had once contained the members that had once been called the Fellowship of the Ring.

            Looking into her Mirror, everything had made so clear to her. The exact means of bringing down the races to bow to her was so simple and it began with her own people. The Elves were leaving for the Undying Lands at that very moment, but if she could control all those that remained, their combined force, power and magic would be able to bring all the mortals to their knees. 

            It had already begun in Rivendell. She had made it so Elrond knew she had the ring in order to make him press his hand. Either way he would leave his magically protected lands and head either for her or for the west. Then she would have him and all his people. 

            Mirkwood was another matter. King Thranduil had no such ring or any connections thereto. The one ring had even passed right through his lands those short years ago and he had never been the wiser. That Hobbits was wearing it nearly the whole time while in his Halls. 

            'Fool!' She thought, 'He has always been a fool, falling into the mortal delights of wine and treasure.' 

            Getting to him would serve to be a problem. Since he was so disconnected from them, away in his dark forest they would hold up there and be almost impossible to reach. 

            Fate, it seemed, had decided to play in her favor in this pressing issue as well. For in the group that had brought the one ring into her possession, he also brought one she could use to resolve this situation and bring the Wood-Elves of Mirkwood into her grasp. 


	4. It Begins

Disclaimer: *puts characters on borrowing machine* ok we've loaned them out already, from the Middle Earth National Library;-)!

Chap 3: It Begins

Legolas and Gimli crept through the woods of Lorien with as much stealth as they could muster, Legolas's sleek, light steps barely making a mark on the ground or a sound while Gimli's heavy dwarf-boots trampled the grass, flattening it and emitting muffled noises.

"Cannot you be more quiet?" Legolas hissed.

"I am trying," Gimli shot his companion a withering look," but I am wearing boots and not shoes and I cannot glide like you do!"

Legolas shook his head and then stopped suddenly.

Standing in front of them, was one of the Elves of Lorien.

Elrond was silent as he contemplated his next course of action. Everything was so normal, so quiet, so serene. For many years, his people had lived in peace; the fair valley untainted by the evil that was reaching its long fingers all over; the haven he had painstakingly created basked in the contentment brought by a simple life.

"Perhaps there is not a need to do anything," Elladan finally broke the silence, as he looked to his brother, and his father, for affirmation. "Perhaps all we need to do is to be more vigilant, from this moment."

Elrond looked at his son for a while, then nodded and turned away. His eyes wandered down to the ring on his finger again, which was now bathed in a faint blue glow.

"You are far from Caras Galadhon," The elf commented, looking at Gimli.

"I am merely showing my friend the dwarf around," Legolas thought quickly. At first glance, there seemed naught wrong with this seemingly-casual comment. However, one could never afford to be careless.

"Fully packed, as for a long journey?" 

Gimli and Legolas exchanged a quick look.

"We have had news that all is not well at home. We hoped to go back to see if we could be of aid," Gimli finally put in. It was partly true, at least. "I wished to take a last look at this fair land ere we left."

"And of course the Lord and Lady knows of this," Legolas blurted out.

"Truly? I have had no news of this." A silky voice interjected. Where formerly it had been so musical, so pleasant, it now sent shivers down the spines of the two guests.

Looking down at his ring once again, Elrond sighed. The nagging fear in his heart had not dissipated yet. The lord of Imladris rarely worried that much, but past experience had proved that any strong worries were not entirely unfounded. It was as if the halfelven had a sixth sense that enabled him to sense things that many others would not.

Vilya emanated a strong glow again.

Elrond made a swift decision. He sought his sons.

"The Lady of Lorien will move swiftly. You must lead a host out."

Galadriel's eyes probed the eyes of her guests, forcing Legolas to make eye contact with her. Her eyes, once kindly and wise, were cold and hard. Legolas' eyes widened and he froze there, like an animal caught in a trap, unable to break the net.

She held his eyes for a long time, saying no word, and a cloud of confusion passed over his face.

Gimli looked from one to the other, wondering what to make of it.

The Lady of Lorien turned around, and behind her three elves came up. One held a bow and a quiver of arrows, of Lorien-make, for Legolas, The second bore a belt of intricately carved gold leaves, set with white and green gems, for Gimli. The third bore two sets of folded clothing---cloaks with hoods, made of light, silken fabric woven by the Galadhrim themselves.

"Namarie. Go if you must," Galadriel said, her eyes meeting Legolas's again. The cloud in the latter's eyes dissolved as quickly as it had come.

Legolas nodded, if a little vigorously. He grabbed Gimli's arm and the two companions continued through the forest again.

As Galadriel turned away, there was a hint of a satisfied smile upon her face.

"That was…frightening," Gimli breathed when they were sufficiently far away and he decided that they were out of hearing. "Did you see her smile; it sent shivers up my spine." He glanced at his companion. Legolas was still holding to his arm.

Legolas's eyes, usually lively, and yet intense at the same time, were glazed, blank.

"Legolas?"

"Speak no evil of the fair Lady," Legolas growled through clenched teeth. 

His blue eyes had suddenly sprung to life again, but they were filled with seething, storming rage. His now vice-like grip was beginning to hurt Gimli's arm.

Galadriel could not resist the smile that tugged at her lips. The time was ripe now.

She had moved her pawn.

Next, she would send her bishops, knights and rooks, all-out, to capture her opponent's King. There would be no stopping, until it was a checkmate.


	5. Departure of the Animals

A/N: This is Elvensong with the new chapter and I must also ask forgiveness for taking so long. Totally my fault and my partner in this venture is completely innocent of any amount of delay. I hope you enjoy this new chapter and will take a moment to review and send up feedback about this insanely difficult plotline we've taken on. 

Chapter Five: The Departure of the Animals

            The journey was an odd one to begin with, but now it was just beyond all comprehension.

            Granted, one never saw an Elf and a Dwarf traveling together, but the tension radiating from the Elf, a normally calm and reserved creature, made even the trees shake with apprehension. 

            Since the moment when they had left the Golden Wood, Legolas had seemed reserved, as if his very mind was somewhere else, wondering on paths known only to him. Whenever Gimli would comment on anything at all, his response would be a short glance in his direction or there would be none at all. 

            The outburst in defense of the Lady whom the Mirkwood Prince had never met before and no special loyalty to was very disturbing to Gimli and as they got farther and farther from that place, Legolas did not return to his normal firstborn self. Even the annoying singing and elven cheer would have been a comfort now, even though it had been seen as only an annoyance not but a few days ago. 

            Legolas, meanwhile, could not seem to shake a feeling that kept intruding into his mind. 

            A voice, beautiful yet filled with a terrible power that Legolas could not place. 

            'Go home, my beautiful Prince. Return to the woods that bore you and confront your noble father.' Said the feminine voice, but to what end Legolas could not know. All he did know was that he must return to Mirkwood and confront whatever fate awaited him there. 

            Elrond stood before the gathering of elves that had answered his call. Time was running against them and every moment that Galadriel had with the ring uncontested, the more she could learn of its secrets and of the power it contained. She would attempt to wield it, of that he was certain and if she did her power and its would combine and none could possibly guess what outcome would spring from this union. 

            They began to move out, moving towards a fate none could know. Somehow Elrond Half-elven felt more ill tiding towards this attack than he did upon the slopes of Mount Doom. 

            "Something odd is happening." Freezing in his tracks, the Ranger could not pinpoint what exactly was giving him this great feeling of foreboding. 

            "Aragorn, I think your time around Elves has affected you farther than you think. Must you be so puzzling as they are? I swear, an Elf can never give anyone a straight answer." Boromir crossed his arms, awaiting his comrade's continued motion. 

            For all his observation, the source of this feeling was eluding him and it was bothering him to no end. Continuing on their course was not an option until he figured this out. If he did learn anything from the Elves, as Boromir suggested, he did learn the art of patience.

            Finally, as the sun coming out from behind great billowing clouds, the answer struck him in the face.

            "The animals!" Aragorn declared. 

            Startled by the breaking of the deafening silence, Boromir jumped, "What do you mean?"

            "Have you not noticed, Boromir? The animals, all of them, have fled them woods. There is not even a squirrel can be seen playing on the tree tops."

            Having his human eyes opened, the Steward of Gondor realized that this was true. There were no signs of any forest creatures, not even a bird sang.

            "What could this mean?"

            "I do not know." Finally, Aragorn began moving with a new sense of urgency.   


	6. Chapter 6

This is Princess of sMirkwood again, receiving the baton after a grueling period of exams, so forgive me if the quality of this chapter is even more compromised than usual.

Disclaimer: All characters are courtesy of our beloved J R R Tolkien, and graciously loaned to us for a longer period(ok ok so we 'snatched' them away).No profit is expected for this...what shall I call it...meddling with the original novel, save the pleasure derived from writing and encouraging reviews from you the reader. Thanks.:-P

Chapter 6

The face of one, once so noble, so fair, had assumed a very unusual _expression. That of a cold, calculating, malevolent criminal; concocting some evil plot that would undoubtedly involve the cruel removal of innocent lives.

So uncharacteristic of what Men termed the 'fair kindred'. The hearts and minds of the Firstborn did not easily succumb to unsavoury, evil thoughts. Elves had always been known for their goodness.

Still, even the good, noble Firstborn were not immune to the temptations of that emotion which has wrecked havoc on human for time immemorial--- greed, the desire for power. For it was clear, with the forging of the Three Rings, that the intention was for power...the power to shape the world as they saw fit, to retain all things they considered beautiful .Something that was as insidious as the One Ring, forged purely on a foundation of evil, once having tainted the mind of the possessor, was almost indelible. The coming of the One, for the Lady of the Golden Wood, was as a stone that had been dropped into a lake, its influence spreading rapidly even now, like the concentric ripples.

The perfect plan was brewing in her mind. It was all so simple, so beautiful.

They would never dream of such a move.

It would hardly be pinned on her.It would catch them completely off guard, and possibly reduce their strength. The rest, she would bring under her control. While she was at it, Men would be almost wiped out. The Eldar were not that easily destroyed, but it would probably rid Men cleanly.

She gazed into her Mirror.

"So, peredhil, you send troops, in the direction of my land. "

Elrond was mighty among both Elves and Men, and one of the Eldar. But he was, after all, impure. Tainted with the blood of Men, such a weak race.

A fool he was, and now he was playing into her hands.

"Galadriel?"

The Lady of Lorien spun around, to see her husband walking towards her. 

"What is wrong? Your behaviour is...strange. Changed."

"Naught is wrong, my love. Naught at all." Galadriel held up her long, slender white hand. "In fact, all is well. Very well, indeed."

The One on one of her fingers flared in the sunshine; the fiery Elvish lettering glowing visibly. The white gem of Nenya glimmered like starlight.

Gimli was continuously stealing a glance at his elven companion as he walked. They were now many leagues from Lorien, but Gimli was still uneasy. Unconsciously, every two minutes, he was spinning around, as though expecting some foe to attack from behind.

The land was completely quiet. Too silent. The only sound that could be heard was his own footsteps, and occasional imperceptible sounds from Legolas when he stepped on a twig. Gimli found it rather unsettling that the normally alert Elf had apparently not noticed the unusual silence of the land.

"Am I so alluring that you have to look at me every two seconds?"

The Dwarf jumped. "What-?"He snapped incredulously, face turning slightly red. 

Suddenly, the ground shook.

Before Gimli even comprehended what had happened, he was bowled over, tumbling heavily onto the ground.

It was not the tremor that had felled him though. It was Legolas, who was now sprawled on top of the dwarf. The latter stared at his friend, questions in his eyes, and not withstanding a little ire as well.

The Elf pointed silently to the huge tree that lay beside them. Instantly Gimli realized what had happened. His friend had shoved him out of the trajectory of the tree that must have been uprooted by the tremor.

Gimli muttered his thanks as he got to his feet.

Inexplicably, the ground had stopped shaking.

"What do you make of that?" Gimli asked.

"I know not," Legolas answered, seemingly having shaken off his strange mood earlier. "It seems like a small earthquake. In that case, we should move faster, for I fear that these lands are not safe any longer. Are you all right?" His eyes were genuinely concerned, and this eased the Dwarf a great deal. Legolas had just shown more normal. Granted, Legolas was strange, at any given point in time, or so it seemed to the dwarf, but he had been stranger than usual, and even a little crazed perhaps...

Aragorn let out a great shout as he felt the ground shake. He lost his balance and fell. Inches away, Boromir had fallen too. With a surge forward Aragorn seized Boromir's arm, for fear that they would be separated. The Gondorian roared something unintelligible.

Fleetingly Aragorn wondered what had become of the hobbits, and Legolas and Gimli. Were they, even now, at the mercy of this sudden earthquake?

It was impossible to stand, for the tremors were strong, so they were forced to lie where they were. Boromir held up his round shield against the pebbles and stones that came skittering at them, and Aragorn threw up his arm to protect his face.

The ground shuddered as a great tree crashed near them, the tips of the branches jutting into Boromir, startling them considerably.

"Boromir!" Aragorn shouted above the din," We have to move! Fly!" They scrambled up, but another tremor felled them.

The duo could only look on in horror as a huge boulder loomed right in front and descended upon them...

"That was extremely strange, for the ground to shake so and then cease trembling so quickly," Gimli rambled. "If you want to know my opinion, I think it might have been the work of the Lady Galadriel. Her arm has grown long."

The two companions had marched so fast (with numerous complaints from Gimli regarding the lack of food and rest) that they were now under the eaves of Mirkwood, using the elf-road that Legolas' people had paved.

Legolas spun around so abruptly that Gimli jumped and shrank back.

"No one asked for your opinion," the Elf exploded, his eyes blazing. He advanced menacingly towards the Dwarf, knife drawn upon the latter's throat. The smaller being, eyes round as saucers, jerked back reflexively and narrowly avoided having his neck punctured by the sharp blade.

Legolas sheathed his knife, his steely eyes glittering in the darkness with wrath.

"Follow this road out of my home yourself."

The Elf proceeded on his way, without so much as a glance backward, leaving the Dwarf, far in his wake, staring after him.

Legolas was nearing the parts where his people inhabited. Fallen trees lay strewn about, undoubtedly the work of the earthquake, their branches splayed onto the ground. The mangled remains of huts and talons were tangled with the debris from the fallen flora. But Legolas hardly deigned to spare the destruction a glance as he skillfully and gracefully threaded his way through the mess.

His mind was entirely on his destination, the palace.

Relief rose when he found the stout gates still standing, with sentinels before it.

"Ai na vedui, nin caun! Mae Govannen!* " Naurwe cried gladly.

Naturally Legolas was readily admitted as he gave the command that would open the gates. Without preamble he requested for the location of his father. Where he walked, he was greeted respectfully and joyfully. King Thranduil's son was respected and loved by his people.

Legolas barged into his father's study without knocking, and Thranduil looked up with a frown, about to snap at the intruder, for the King of Mirkwood was very particular about his privacy, and the mannerisms of all his subjects as well, family included. Thranduil stopped mid-sentence and strode forward to his son.

"Kill him. Now. It is your only chance."

Legolas blinked rapidly, stunned. Who did that voice belong to, that had just...commanded him to...commit patricide? Who?

"Legolas?"

"Forgive me, Father, what were you saying?"

"The mission is completed?" Thranduil's keen eyes looked concerned.

"Well...not exactly," Legolas hedged. "Father, we must..."

"Kill him."

"Legolas?"

"Settle this now. Kill him."

"Legolas!"

The younger Elf forced himself to focus on his liege.

"Is everything well?" Thranduil now looked anxious. Legolas nodded silently, his eyes bleak.

"Kill him. Kill him. Kill him...." The chants grew stronger and louder each time, until they were mingled into an unintelligible dull roar, and Legolas stopped his ears, trying to drown out this bizarre instruction, to no avail.

"My son?" The Elvenking grew panicked and seized his son's shoulders.

Legolas studied his father's frantic face dispassionately. Suddenly, right before him, the anxious face dissolved.

In place of it was a mocking one that spat out spiteful words. "You have always been foolish and useless, have you not? You have come back so soon after setting out. And why is that? You must have failed the mission. As usual, is it not? Failure is no stranger to you, but a familiar figure!"

It was the same look that had appeared on his father's face when he had mercilessly berated Legolas, in front of the whole Mirkwood counsel, over the escape of Gollum, the prisoner that had been under his charge.

Something in Legolas snapped; his bruised ego would take no more battering.

"Kill him. "

This time, Legolas obeyed the command, and before he truly realized what he was doing, he had swept out his knife and had plunged it into his father's heart.

The voice vanished.

Legolas blinked yet again, and his eyes focused on Thranduil's stunned face.

"Father?"

Thranduil's arms were still circled about his son in the comforting embrace that he had been in the process of giving. He slid soundlessly onto the floor, eyes wide open in stunned surprise.

"Father!"

Legolas was dumbstruck when he saw the handle of his long knife protruding from his father's chest, the blade partially buried in his body. Near it, his father's silver tunic was already stained red. The stain was rapidly growing. Legolas forced his shaking hand to move and pressed it against Thranduil's neck. No pulse.

"Adar! "

The knife was the only thing that was visible to Legolas now. His knife. His own knife. He had just murdered his own father.

Valar, no! What did I do? What possessed me to do this?

Legolas looked down at his own hands. They were red. He had his father's blood on his hands.

Letting out a strangled, choked, pitiful cry, Legolas stumbled back in panic and horror and fled.

He had to go somewhere, as far away as possible, away from these place. Anywhere away from his father's body. Any place where he could not see this atrocity that he had committed, intentional or no.


	7. Redirecting Fate

A/N: Forgive my delay, my newest story took over for a while, however I did not wish to leave this forgotten. Thank you to all the readers. I hope this was worth the wait and you will take a moment to review. Both of us would be delighted to hear your thoughts. 

Elvensong

Chapter 7: Redirecting Fate

'These woods may be even more perilous than the woods of the Lady, if that's possible.' Gimli thought as he wondered the paths of Mirkwood towards his home in the Lonely Mountain. This was very close to the same path that his father he walked down with the other Dwarfs and Bilbo the Hobbit. What an adventure that must have been, however he was having his own at the moment, and even more hung in the balance than a lost treasure and a dragon. 

He knew he was heading northeast, the same way Legolas had been traveling, however being that this was his home he was sure his companion had reached his destination by now. The behavior still plagued Gimli's mind. They had finally come to understand each other, have respect for one another after the great trials in Moria. 

Now, it was as if he no longer knew the elf he had traveled with and fought beside. 

There was something more to his friend's actions than simply the fact that he was an elf and, in a Dwarf's opinion, annoying by nature. All these thoughts kept coming into his head and he replayed the last few days in his mind. The loss of the ring, the splitting of the Fellowship and the departure of Legolas into the woods leaving him alone. 

All these thoughts distracted him from his dangerous surroundings. 

A spider, noticing a nice little lunch, crept down from a tree above. There were fewer and fewer creatures in this forest these days and a cunning spider could not longer pick and choose its lunch. 

Gimli halted, having heard a cracking sounds from somewhere in his surroundings. Quickly, he went over in his mind the stories his father, Gloin, had told him of these woods. The fear currently running through his brain was clouding his memory. 

Suddenly, one thing did come rushing back, spiders, they were giant spiders in these woods!

Quickly, Gimli looked above his head just in time to see one of the spiders come swinging down at him. 

Celeborn's eyes widened in shock. The One Ring of Power was on his wife's finger shining with a golden light against the power of the Ring of Power that had always been on her hand. 

"My Love, what have you done?" His voice was soft and hallow as his lifted his unbelieving eyes into her bright ones. He did not see the comforting light he had always seen, but something new. Something he could not describe. 

Smirking, she strode forward, "I merely completed what was always destined to be. I was always meant to be the Queen of all the Lands. Thus completes the fate of all Middle-Earth."

"Beloved, there is nothing save evil down this path that you are walking. Please do not venture further down it."

"There may be darkness for some, but for me there will be light. My mirror has shown me what will be, and I must say it excites me. All the world will bow at my feet."

Celeborn shook his head, "The world will not do so without a struggle. The end of all this is finally shown to us, do not take it away."

"I am not taking it away, my husband, but giving it a new objective." She froze him in place with her penetrating glare, "Even you, who has stood by me for countless years cannot understand."

"Understand what, my Love? The Ring will consume you. You will lose your identity, everything you are will be gone to darkness." 

"You underestimate me, for I am the only one who can control the One Ring." She turned to leave.

Celeborn moved to stop her, "You are wrong, no one can control it, not even you, the Lady of Light, has that power."

Suddenly, he felt a coldness begin to overtake him, she placed her hand on his shoulder and from her touch the immobility grew stronger. 

"You are weak, you have taken his lies to heart. You will not stop me. I'm sorry, this is only until you have seen the way." 

Unable to move, his was consumed by the bitter and numbing feel that overtook his body.

When Galadriel left the room, Celeborn stood, a marble statue with an eerie life-like quality to it.

The physical blood may have left, but the mental image could not be removed. No matter how many times he washed his hands, their appearance never changed. 

He killed his father, and there was no escape for Legolas now. He could never go back now. No matter what the future held for him, his father's blood would always stain his soul. 

"I'm so sorry." He could only form a whisper, but he hoped that the fates could hear his plea. 

Only a cool breeze was his reply. 

"What do I do now?"

The mysterious voice in his mind was gone. Even it had forsaken him. Now he was truly alone.

"What can I do now?"

All the guilt in existence pressed down upon his soul and a tunnel of never ending darkness was his only path.

"I shall return to the Lady, for she is the only one who can hear my plea. She is the only one who can help me now."

Elrond of Rivendell stood in the front of his armies. They had finally entered the edges of the Golden Wood. 

They did not know what to expect, but with the silence born to their race, they proceeded with all stealth.

As if appearing out of thin air, a figure stood before him.

"Lord Elrond, what brings you to these woods?" 

Behind the Elf stood more of his kindred, armed and prepared to strike. Elrond knew that many more would be in the great trees above them.

Not knowing what would come of this meeting, The Lord of Rivendell bowed in respect and greeting.

"Haldir."


	8. Trapped

A/N: Begging your pardons for the long wait, had a serious case of writer's block, and life caught up with me.. so I've kept the baton with me for some time. We will greatly appreciate reviews. Hannon lle.

Chapter 7

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Pippin asked. His legs were aching terribly and beginning to feel rather wobbly.

"There's nothing but grass and trees for leagues around," Merry said miserably as he turned a full round, standing on his toes and trying to see as far as he could.

Frodo looked uncertain. "I'm not sure what lies in which direction any more," he admitted.

"We're lost?" Pippin all but screamed.

"Strider oughtn't to have left us alone like this," Sam groused. "Let's face it, we're lost!"

Pippin stumbled over a root in the ground and fell sprawling to the ground. "Merry, I'm- "

"Hungry I suppose," Merry finished for him with his eyes narrowed in a glare. " With you, we'll never have enough to last us."

"I'm thirsty!" Pippin said, as though defending himself. "My water-skin is empty."

Frodo silently passed him his own, and all four hobbits sat down for a much-needed rest. 

"Why didn't we look more closely at the maps in Elrond's house?" Sam berated himself.

"Now, let's try to think." Frodo finally spoke up. He produced a compass from his pack, and all four watched as the thin, spidery needle quivered and then settled to a stop. "We know the Shire lies to the northeast."

"What's the use of that?" Merry asked. "We'll never find our way past the Misty Mountains."

Silence fell.

"We could go northwards," Frodo suggested at last. "We might come across somebody who could help us. Perhaps the Woodmen, Beorn, or even Legolas's people!" he said more optimistically, more for his companions' sake then anything. "What do you say?"

"What else could we do?" Sam answered for all the hobbits.

His head was aching, aching so very badly. The pain coursed through his skull, meandering and twisting its way like the Anduin into every single part of his head.

He tried to move his left leg, which did not feel as though it belonged to him. Aches pricked him relentlessly as though thousands of needles were jabbed into him all at once.

Aragorn raised his head slightly and blinked, his grey eyes discerning naught but darkness, and silence.

His sluggish mind tried to process what had transpired.

"Aragorn?"

He heard someone moving, but he could not quite link the voice to anyone he knew. That voice was so tantalizingly familiar… 

"Boromir?"

"Yes."

"'Thank the Valar," Aragorn breathed.

"Not so fast," Boromir answered. "You can thank them when—or if—we ever get out of this place."

Aragorn sighed. The pain drummed throughout his skull in a staccato beat.

"Will you not speak plainly? I am in no condition to fathom any beating about the bush…"

" That was just to allow you a taste of your own medicine," Boromir answered, and Aragorn could almost picture the scowl on his face. "I believe falling through the hole saved us from that boulder, but we are no better off now, for we are buried under a fallen roof."

"We fell through the ground?" Aragorn questioned, his usually quick mind sorting things out much more slowly now.

"Exactly. Now, all we need is some help removing this debris off us…"

"You come armed as if for battle." Haldir said after a deliberate pause.

"As do you," Elrond commented calmly. "I would like to see the Lady Galadriel, if you please."

Haldir stepped closer, his sword hand raised. The blade in his hand danced playfully. 

It swung almost lazily until the tip rested upon Elrond's throat. Elrond remained still as a statue, knowing better than to move.

"We received a better welcome and greater hospitality in times past," Elrohir said coldly, anger marring his face. "Tis is no polite way to greet the Lady's kin."

"In times past, as you said," Haldir's voice was cool. "The Lady sees her guests when she wishes." His lips curved into a mocking half-smile. 

The sharp point jabbed Elrond a little more forcefully.

"She wishes to welcome all of you to the Halls of Mandos." His voice was even colder than Elrohir's, if possible.

"Adar!" Both Elladan and Elrohir cried in unison as they rushed to their father's side.

The ground gave way beneath them as they leapt, and father and sons stumbled as the forest floor fell away beneath them.

Tumbling, tumbling away beneath the inky depths of the ground…


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Here is chapter 9 to this ever increasingly complex fic. Many group online writing activities have kept me away from writing my own stories. Yet the fun of those games has been well worth the effort. Finally, in a moment of time to myself, I have been able to write for my own personal stories. I hope you enjoy. 

Chapter Nine

Galadriel smiled into her mirror. Using all of her power, she made the very ground Elrond's enemy and destroyer. Her domination was growing into absolute force over all in the lands of Middle Earth.

She felt movement behind her, but she was not surprised. With her supreme sight, nothing could shock or surprise her now.

"You have returned to me, Young Prince, or should I say King?"

Bowing to her, Legolas replied, "I do not know what I am, My Lady."

Turning, she stared at him with her bright and haunting blue eyes.

"You are a great being in your own right. You are a great force to be reckoned with. I shall use you well."

"You are to use me then, have me as your slave for all eternity. We are elven, I could be at your command, killing for you, till the end of the world." Legolas said with a shallow, small voice.

Smiling, she walked silently up to him. 

"Fair point, Young Legolas, and your will is failing. You are beginning to see what is happening here." She raised her hand to touch his cheek. "I cannot have you questioning my orders, nor seeing fit to conspire behind my back as I can see you doing even now. I can see your future, and you could ruin everything should I allow you to continue as you have begun. No, I must stop you now, I'm afraid, but I know you are not scared of what I speak."

For the first time, he met her gaze and did not falter, "I am not and I know what you have in store for me."

"Your will itself, Legolas. That is what I wish. That is what you cannot possess any longer. I'm sorry, fail and young Elf, but I must take it from you now."

"Then do so."

After all this time, he could not believe that he had found his way back to the powerful wood of Lothlorien.  He had fought the spiders of Mirkwood and hidden from many dangers to return to his point of origin. He knew he found never be able to find his way to his kin, and the matter was too pressing by now. Evil events had occurred, and he needed to know the answers now. Days might make the difference between hope and despair.

The sun was setting over the wooded land, casting colors of red and gold that could been seen through the gaps in the trees. 

Before the Dwarf stood an Elf. A familiar Elf.

"Legolas. How are you here?" Gimli questioned.

Legolas said nothing.

He simply raised his bow and aimed an arrow at Gimli's chest.

"What are you doing, fool Elf? I am your companion. Your comrade! Your friend!" It took a great deal for Gimli to say those words to Legolas. It was not a plea for his life, but facts that hung thickly in the air.

No recognition was showing in the Elf's vacant eyes.

Legolas did not exist in that body any longer. 

Elrond finally got a candle from his pack lit. 

They were buried alive in a cave of enormous size. 

No light penetrated into the depts. 

They were trapped, buried alive. 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Ï'm very sorry, it's all my fault for taking thus long to continue this tale.

"This certainly is of her doing." Elladan said as he scanned their new surroundings, seeking an exit but finding none.

"And we fell nicely into her trap," Elrohir said in growing awareness. His brows were furrowed in a deep frown, annoyed with himself for their folly. "Ï cannot fathom this. Our own kin!" His voice rose in an angry note.

"Your grandmother no longer knows kin from any who stand in her way," Elrond shook his head. "Our surmise was not far, then. By some means she has managed to snare the One. The influence of the One knows no limits. More so in the hands of one mighty as the Lady of Lorien."

"Such relieving news," Elladan commented sarcastically. "What of Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship then? Do they still walk alive on this earth?"

"How are our own folk faring? Are they…"Elrohir mused, anxious too.

"We cannot worry about that now. Our foremost task is to save ourselves."

The candle went out.

"Blasted Elf!" With uncharacteristic speed (for a dwarf), based on pure instinct, Gimli threw himself without hesitation upon Legolas, using his weight to pin the latter on the ground. "LEGOLAS!" He bellowed, trying unsuccessfully to get through to his friend.

Legolas's knuckles were white with the tight grip that he had on his bow and arrow and he writhed violently, trying to free his hand so that he might shoot.

Gimli knew that he was on the losing end.  He had not known that the deceptively slender frame of an Elf could possess such strength; he was having a hard time trying to keep Legolas's hand still; his hold was slipping. The weapons simply could not be wrestled from the Elf's hands.

It was as simple as that, if Legolas managed to shoot, Gimli knew that it would be the end of him. A seasoned and skilled warrior of the Eldar could not possibly miss from such a short range; besides, the prince still had his blades.

The moment of distraction resulting from his thoughts proved to be his undoing. 

Legolas freed the hand that held his arrow and lobbed it straight at Gimli.

The arrow pierced the dwarf.

"And how do you propose we move all the debris off us without any aid or light?" Aragorn snapped sarcastically. "We are both not of sound condition."

"How ought Ï to know?" Boromir's tone was irate. "You are the leader now that Gandalf is gone."

A pregnant pause stretched between the two.

"Ï have still my pack on my back," Boromir finally spoke up. "Wait while Ï look for any item that might prove of use to us." Scrabbling noises echoed as Boromir used purely his sense of touch to rummage through his pack.

 "How far do you think we've gone? Are we anywhere near Mirkwood?" Pippin questioned, wiping the sheen of sweat off his forehead. He flopped on the ground, he could not walk another step.

"Do you see anything that indicates we're near Mirkwood?" Merry returned, weary of Pippin's naïve and repeated stupid questions.

"Let's not quarrel," Frodo sighed wearily.

Gimli stumbled along the ground as if drunken, his hands clenching his beard and his hands covering his mouth.

His stomach retched and his mind was reeling.

"Dear Aule, no! Tell me this is but a bizarre dream!" The dwarf screamed to himself in his head.

He looked down at himself and saw the blood still issuing from the arrow wound. The arrow still embedded in his body, the feathered shaft protruding.

This was no dream.

This was real.

Besides, he never dreamed, so it could not possibly have been a dream.

His raiment was blood stained. The wound looked and felt frighteningly real. Only it was not the only wound that ailed him; the wound in his soul still festered as well.

Trembling mightily he sank onto his knees on the ground.

Not his friend, his comrade. The one with whom he had shared such wonderful times with on one of their roamings of the Golden Wood.

The one he had traded much insults and glares with on the road from Rivendell to Lorien. The one who shared stories and songs with.

Images of Legolas shifted in his mind. The laughing Legolas. The singing Legolas. The smug, arrogant, superior Legolas as they argued over the merits and demerits of each of their respective race. The unbelievably irritating, yet strangely good-natured face of Legolas as he joked and teased Gimli. The crazed, maddened expression on his face as he struggled under Gimli. The empty, vacant expression as he had aimed a shot at him.

When he had suddenly found the arrow in him, something in him had awoken and he had struck out without further thought with his fists. Then as Legolas sought the killing blow, Gimli's hands had closed around the first weapon he could find, his fallen axe, and swung it .

Strangled sobs and gasps shook the small, heavyset frame as he recalled his heinous crime, even if it was in self-defense.

Gathering his wits about him again he did the best he could tending his own wound and started moving.

This time though, it was without aim. Without a destination.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: No profits are expected from this fic, and everything still belongs to Mr Tolkien despite the insistent twiddling with the story.

A/N: Many apologies for the long delay in this tale....alas for writer's block and life's many obstacles!

The chamber, situated right at the pinnacle of the Dark Tower, was ever black as night, never penetrated by even the slightest bit of natural light. The only light that ever lit up the place was provided by the fire, whose dark glow gave the place an eerie feel to it. Even the darkest being in Arda required some form of light to survive.

That being sat in his throne, his massive silhouette almost overshadowing the light of the fire. He was wont to sit there and stare---glare, perhaps, was a more fitting word---into the fire, his mind ever wandering, twisting, prying into the very deepest recesses of his mind to conjure the most ingenious plots and devices for his evil purposes.

Of late, though, his mind often strayed far away beyond the confines of his present physical location, into territories far away, fueled by the frequent reports of his numerous spies and allies throughout Middle Earth, exploring the lands and the peoples that inhabited them, striving to gather all the information he could to pave the way for his desire to conquer the world.

Of course, there were many means of reconnaissance. Spies and allies only formed part of the surveying contingent. There was also his nine servants, led by his Black Captain, instrumental to his hunt for his lost weapon----that 'trifle' that would clinch the ultimate victory. Mighty as they were, they were but puppets, the mere manifestations of his powers.

Besides, they had yet to succeed in their mission.

As his most favoured means of reconnaissance showed. The Nine were, after all, useless. They were slow. They could only travel in disguise, unlike others in his service. They took time to traverse the lands or rally spies to report to him.

One would think a dark globe of crystal an odd means of reconnaissance. Yet, as was now proved, it was fast. One glance into it brought him up-to-date to events from Gondor to the former Arnor, within minutes. It had snared him Saruman, a potentially useful ally. That leader of Gondor had only been too easy to beguile. And the palantir was very apt to his hand, rendering fear, torture, tempting and other ways unnecessary.

The Great Eye no longer needed to roam the lands so much, nor to wait too long for important news. It bore more often now on the palantir. The images it presented to him were bewildering at times, but pictures spoke a thousand words, and Sauron's powerful mind easily formed conclusions from what he saw...

A small being, who he thought was a Halfling, though he had never seen one in person before, and three others like it, wandering, both in green lands and barren lands.

The earth shaking and groaning from great tremors, and that Elf who had stood at the head of the army opposing him long ago, falling, falling, into the bowels of the ground.....

Great spires of smoke rising from different lands....

Fierce battle.....houses and farmlands consumed by flames....Women dragging screaming , the terror etched on blackened faces...

He looked more closely to see what--or who---the aggressors were...

_Elves?_

He pondered over these puzzling observations. How could there be war and fighting already when he had yet to set his plans in motion? How came it that _elves, _themost peace-loving of all beings, were waging battle?

_Someone has my weapon in his arsenal. One powerful enough to incite the Elves into fighting each other._

Sauron knew he had to act, and fast. He had to recover what was his own....

"My Lord."

"What were my instructions? "The voice thundered, far louder than the roar of the fire, louder than the fiercest thunderstorm. "Speak!"

"To retrieve what is yours, "the thin voice ventured.

"Useless fools," Sauron spat, causing his Black Captain to take a few steps back." Have you brought me aught?" His burning eyes blazed with fierce wrath, and his chief servant quailed and backed further, no longer daring to speak, so afraid was he.

"Bring back what is rightfully mine."

These words were quiet, but struck far more fear in the heart of the Ringwraith than any shouting could. He would much have preferred it had his master raised his voice.

_"Someone _has my power in his possession and has set it in motion_."_ Sauron hissed, his voice resonating with hatred and malice." He will pay."

"But you will pay even more if you fail this time."

The Ringwraith, who had struck terror in the hearts of so many far more powerless beings, was now reduced to nothing but quivering nerves. He cast his black hood over his formless features, bowed and fled.

Gandalf's unmoving body lay battered and worn on the cold hard ground, his tattered remnants of his grey raiment scattered around him. The bitter frost bit into every sinew, every fiber of the body. Not a single part of his body seemed to desire movement of any sort.

Yet the immortal spirit encased within the mortal body was not on the same tangent. It winced with every groan of the earth that it could sense, and screamed for action.

Middle-Earth was in trouble, and it was up to Gandalf to save it. Yet he could do no more than to simply lie there, limbs sagging like a rag doll.

Something sharp prodded Gandalf. First on his shoulder.

Then on his chin.

Then on his forehead.

The Istar cursed at the disturbance, though in his current condition it sounded more like drunkard's mumblings. This jabbing was far more insistent than the frigid wind and the biting of the hard pebbles and jagged rock fragments on the ground.

A well-placed peck on the nose...and Gandalf's eyes flew open, only to be roasted by the abrupt exposure to light, rousing a pounding in his head that would have rivaled that of a dwarf's hewing on rock. When the agony subsided and his vision cleared, he beheld, hovering above him, the Lord of the Eagles, probing him with his great strong beak.

The eagle's next action was to clamp his talons upon Gandalf's long silver hair and make as if to fly off with the wizard in this precarious position. Gandalf immediately threw his body upon the eagle's back and fastened his arms around Gwaihir's body as he felt himself rising, rising high above the clouds, cruising in the skies.

"Ever am I fated to be your burden, friend at need," Gandalf said after he had recovered a little.

"A burden you have been, but not so now. Light as a swan's feather in my claw you are. The Sun shines through you now. Indeed you have no need of me now: were I to let you fall, you would float upon the wind," Gwaihir said.

"Do not let me fall!" Gandalf gasped. "Bear me to Lothlorien!"

"That indeed is the command of the Lady Galadriel who sent me to look for you."

After that both were silent for the most part of the journey, until Gwaihir descended from the sky in wide circles, and landed in the Golden Wood.

Gandalf raised his hand to his heart as a gesture of gratitude and watched Gwaihir disappear into the skies once again. He walked on the green grass through the trees, treading the familiar path to Caras Galadhon.

As he walked, he could not help but feel a vague sense of foreboding that he could not quite place. The wood was as fair as he remembered, but it was strangely, eerily silent. No bird sang, no animals scurried about. No breeze blew....the air had a stifling, musty quality about it. Like...

Like the Mirkwood areas outside Thranduil's realm.

His forehead creased the further he walked. There was not a single soul in sight.

No Elf guarded the gates of Caras Galadhon. Gandalf found his step growing wary; goosebumps rose on his bare skin; all the hairs stood on end. He could have called out to see if any answered. Yet he somehow knew; he was sure that none would answer. The City was quite deserted.

Except for...

The Lord of the Galadhrim, still as the waters of the Mirrormere.

"Celeborn?" Gandalf ventured. "Whither is the Lady?"

"Cele--"Gandalf's voice dwindled into a whisper as he looked more closely upon the elven lord.

The wizard turned and stumbled wildly away.

conversation taken from The White Rider chapter in The Two Towers book


End file.
